Amassing the Troops
by SinewedCuiras
Summary: 5 years since the death of the Emperor and the defeat of Mehrunes Dagon, the Empire is ruled by a corrupted council. It appears that the Champion of Cyrodil is called upon once more by the people, but will his new offensive stray from the path of righteou
1. Introduction

Amassing the Troops

**Amassing the Troops**

**Summary**: 5 years since the death of the Emperor and the defeat of Mehrunes Dagon, the Empire as ruled by a corrupted council. It appears that the Champion of Cyrodil is called upon once more by the people, but will his new offensive stray from the path of righteousness?

**Ch. 1 Threat to the Realms**

_A large four armed shadow descended from the heavens onto the older man's shaking form, dribble coming from its open maw and sweat glistening on the great red brow. "Ocato you fool! Did you honestly think your pathetic cities were safe from me?" the towering figure bellowed, causing the landscape to shake. The cowering man looked up at the gargantuan with panicked, fearful eyes, "Dagon! I th-thought you were g-gone!" The great demon threw his head back with a hearty chuckle that rattled the chancellor to his bones. "Gone? As long as my brethren hold power over the realms of Oblivion, I shall always find a way back to the Nirn of Men and Myr!" With his ominous forecast of events to come completed, he raised one enormous hand laced with claw-like blades only to bring it down upon the feeble human._

Awaking from his nightmare, a cold sweat plastering his clothing to the soft, silken sheets of his bed, Chancellor Ocato glanced around worriedly. "Hello?" he managed to ask meekly, on edge as if the Prince of Destruction from his dreams were hiding under his bed, like a boogieman waiting for a child's feet to hang just low enough to the ground.

"I'm the only one here sir," grumbled the nameless guard by the door, a cookie cutter soldier who did as ordered and was liquored up when allowed. It's been about three years already and Ocato has yet to get used to the idea of a bodyguard. Sure, the Dark Brotherhood had taken a few shots at him, but did that call for a bodyguard?

"My good sir… What would it mean to you if Dagon returned? What do you think it would do to the people of all of Tamriel?" Ocato's pale complexion seemed to shake mildly with his own words.

"Well, sir, I'd happen to think all of civilized life were doomed," the legionnaire scoffed, "but he's long gone now, ain't he?"

Standing up from his bed and taking short, labored steps to his window, Ocato murmured something unintelligible to himself before barking at the lone guard, "Tell the council we have an emergency meeting once the sun rises. And send a message to the castle guard in all the provinces, the Champion of Cyrodil is needed once more in the capital. Now go, post haste!" Moments after the sound of clanking armor faded down the corridor, Ocato sat at his bedside table, scrawling on a piece of parchment. "I shall see to it you are gone for good, Dagon, I shall see you're gone for good."

**A/N**: And so is the introduction for a story to come. Any comments? Like it? Love it? Hate it? I got the idea from another story project that I scrapped in which the other Daedric Lords wished to take over Tamriel… so I figured I might try that reversed.


	2. Awaking the Brethren

Amassing the Troops

**Amassing the Troops**

**Summary**: 5 years since the death of the Emperor and the defeat of Mehrunes Dagon, the Empire as ruled by a corrupted council. It appears that the Champion of Cyrodil is called upon once more by the people, but will his new offensive stray from the path of righteousness?

**Ch. 1 Awaking the Brethren**

"Chancellor, why have you called us here?" cried an outraged council member, his robes crinkled with soft folds and creases showing his apparent haste in waking. "I'll have you mind we have already decided to downplay your antics to the people, but we ourselves may find your behaviors offensive."

Shuffling to his seat at the head of their table, Ocato glanced over his scrawled notes before looking up to the other members. "I have grave news, grave news indeed my friends. I have already sent for the Champion, but I do fear that he may be unable to save us this time." He looked at the wrinkled faces of the squirming council, somewhat enjoying the fear in their eyes.

"And what prophecy of apocalypse do you bring to our doorstep this time?" asked the youngest in the group, and by far the most skeptical.

"I bring not a prophecy, but a warning that has been given to me in my blessed dreams. Mehrunes Dagon visited me in my sleep," at this of course most of the members seemed outraged at the idea of dreams and psychic visions, "he threatened us all, claiming that as long as the other Daedric Princes inhabit the planes of Oblivion, he shall find a way to return to our lands and destroy us utterly!" The council quickly began to chat and bicker amongst itself until the great and fearless Ocato spoke again, "Do not fear however, I have a plan."

The silence grew in anticipation of Ocato's words, but they never came. A snarl had ripped through the large ivory room. With a twang that reverberated across the pale surfaces, Ocato slumped onto the table, an arrow as red as the blood it drew stuck from his back. Looking up to see where the assassin was, they could only stare in fear as a Kynmarcher slung his bow over his shoulder. Snarling again, the Dremora leapt out the window.

When the fear of seeing their most loathsome enemy revived subsided, the council members once again started talking to themselves. It appeared that they were divided between trying to create another barrier to keep Oblivion at bay, and praying that they were dead long before Mehrunes attempts to besiege their world again. Taking this as the most opportune time to speak, a familiar voice rose above the others, commanding attention. "My fellow citizens of the Empire, I give you a third option. How about you remove the Daedric Lords from the equation all together?" The blue robed figure pushed Ocato's limp corpse to the side, taking the seat at the head of the table.

"And what gives you the right to come in here like you own this place, Traven?" spat one of the more seasoned council members. "And what gives you the idea the Daedra can be beaten so hastily?" The looks that the council shot at Hannibal Traven were contemptuous at best.

"Simple really," the aged wizards words flowed as smooth as honey, "destroy the body and then seal the void in which the souls of the Daedra revive themselves." With his final words said, the Archmage stood and walked out of the building, leaving the council in shock. He did take a detour however into a dark alley. Looking to make sure no one could see him he used a dispel magick, revealing a Dremora armed with a bow. "Good work, now you can rest." He released the demon from his summoning and traveled on to the Arcane University.

Stepping back from her perch, she looked at her eye in wonder, "I guess the stupidity of mortals is truly unparalleled." Scribing in the archaic language of the Daedra, Nocturnal turned to the winged twilights she kept as messengers, dispatching each with a sealed scroll. "Now it is time to see who has a greater grasp, Mortals or Gods.

**A/N:** Well, there's the second first chapter… I'm sorry if they're short I'm trying to keep them manageable so updates will be frequent.

**Valen:** You're just a failure! You couldn't perform your craft before, so what makes you think you can now? Hah! I can't believe you expect this swill to sell. You're going to die author, you're going to die. Ooh, hear that? It's the flamers, coming for you! Hee hahaha!

**Author:** I hate you… So much… Takes out a contract with the Night Mother.


End file.
